A still from the 1963 film of William Golding’s Lord of the Flies. Photograph: Ronald Grant
Who can forget Golding’s novel Lord of the Flies telling the story of a group of schoolboys marooned on a desert island? After their fragile attempts at democracy collapse, they descend into savagery and murder. The most sadistic boys take charge. The island paradise burns. Humankind, a recent book by the Dutch writer Rutger Bregman, is a comprehensive rebuttal of the Golding view of human nature. His radical thesis is that “most people, deep down, are pretty decent”. After rereading it on sabbatical in Auckland this month I thought again about the recent promotion of Te Ao Marama.
Bregman, a young Dutch historian, has become a global, TED-talking star following the success of his previous book, Utopia for Realists (2016). That book advocated a universal minimum wage, open borders, and a 15-hour working week. This book shows how such utopian projects are possible because we are not the selfish, bestial, and cruel species history and some scientists would have us believe.
This provocative read is full of great stories of human kindness, such as a real-life Lord of the Flies scenario. In 1965, six boys between 13 and 16 wagged boarding school, stole a boat, and set out on a fishing trip from Tonga. After their boat was almost wrecked in a storm, they drifted for eight days before fetching up on a deserted, rocky island, Ata. On the island, rather than murdering each other, they set about building the rudiments of a civilisation. They agreed not to quarrel but rather to work together.
Captain Peter Warner, the sailor who discovered them more than a year later, reported that the shipwrecked boys had established “a small commune” with a “food garden, a gymnasium, a badminton court, chicken pens, and a permanent fire all from handiwork, an old knife blade, and much determination.” Each day began and ended with song and prayer. One of the boys fashioned a guitar from driftwood and steel wires. The boys returned with him to Tonga, where they were immediately imprisoned for theft of the boat!
Captain Peter Warner, third from left, with his crew in 1968, including the survivors from ‘Ata. Photograph: Fairfax Media Archives/via Getty Images
In the final chapters of the book, Bregman argues that a negative view of human nature distorts public policy, particularly on issues about our justice systems. As an advocate of prison reform Bregman cites the example of Bastoy Island in Norway where prisoners have access to a “cinema, a tanning bed, and two ski slopes”. I visited there on my last trip to Norway. Bastoy is no holiday camp — it is however a penal institution designed to heal rather than harm and to generate hope instead of despair.
A key element is the maintenance of positive relationships and expectation of responsibility. Guards and prisoners eat meals together and prisoners grow their own food and work on the island farm. The reoffending rate of criminals released from Bastoy is 16 per cent, possibly the lowest in the world. By contrast, New Zealand currently imprisons 212 people for every 100,000 and has a recidivism rate of 50 per cent. These statistics are self-evident; our prisons aren't working. The Norwegian system sounds utopian. Far from a dream, it is rather a kinder and safer reality, producing better results for society that are significantly cheaper for taxpayers.
It occurred to me that Te Ao Marama reflects the daily decency and kindness already found in our judges. Judges that accepted appointment to serve their community unselfishly. Judges who take seriously the 26 words of our oath to “…do right to all manner of people after the laws and usages of New Zealand without fear or favour, affection or ill will.”
Te Ao Marama (TAM) should not merely be a redemption song reserved for the sentencing of a few, or the trial of others. It should rather address inequity created by a power-based adversarial process that has long passed its use-by date for a court in New Zealand. There can be no doubt that the current processes for the determination of criminal liability or decisions about family and those suffering from addiction or poor mental health require reimagining. Crime does not happen in a vacuum, it happens in a responsible community. Courts and judges are but a part of that responsibility. If TAM is to be transformative and interconnected, it needs to address not only sentencing, but the entire response to criminal offending, family, and mental health care within a responsible and diverse community.
Are we developing a court system based on values with which we, as users, are comfortable, or do we want to develop an effective, meaningful, acceptable system for future generations? There is a need for a national discussion about the existing fundamentals of the justice system. Should we revisit the presumption of innocence? Should we revisit the burden and onus of proof? Should we reconsider the nature of evidence to improve the factual material upon which a finding may be based? Should we replace jury trials with other fact-finding methods more relevant to our modern society? And can interconnective technology ensure the relevance of law and justice in a responsible community?
Kia noho haumaru mai rā
Stay safe and well
Gerard